


Loki and Father Christmas

by Radar_Girl



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Advent Calendar, Alternate Universe, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Christmas Romance, Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Steve Rogers, Kid Tony Stark, Married Couple, Multi, Romance, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-07 10:17:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21456421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radar_Girl/pseuds/Radar_Girl
Summary: Christmas drabbles and one-shots.Loki is the Mischief Maker, the Trickster, so working with kids should be easy, right? He tries to be a good husband to Sigyn, he sometimes tries to be a good son-in-law. But things have tendency to go wrong, especially when Loki is around.This is about Christmas, Father Christmas, and Loki (sometimes) trying not to mess up.
Relationships: Loki/Sigyn (Marvel)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. One

**Introduction: **

Everyone knows who the Father of Gifts is, even if they all call him by different names and make up different stories about him. On Midgard he is Father Christmas, Santa Claus, or Père Noël; but in the rest of the Nine Realms they just call him Jolnir and he is happy with this.

Jolnir is the Father of Gifts, the Great Gift Giver, the Compassionate One, and Friend of all Children, and he will be there for them on the night of every great celebration, to bestow his gifts upon them. Every world in the Nine Realms has one.

On Midgard, it is Christmas, the most important of days for so many people.

For Asgard, it is the Winter Solstice – the Night of Ice and Fire – when winged longboats are set alight and sailed off the edge of the world.

The Seven Nights of Light is the height of the calendar year for Alfheim, land of the Ice Elves and Jolnir's home.

The children of Nidavellir celebrate the the Great Star's Birth, which keeps the forge lit, by hammering out tiny suns of their own from lumps of luminous crystal and throwing them at each other. It is a good game.

Once a year, Jotunheim remembers Ymir, the greatest of all the giants, whose decaying body feeds the roots of Yggdrasil, the World Tree, and gives it life.

For Vananheim, _the_ Day of Peace, when the war ended between their world and Asgard, is considered to be the best of days in their history. It might be political.

Niflheim, world of fog and mists, is a mysterious place. Few people live there, but Jolnir never forgets the children there.

Svartalfheim is where the Dark Elves reside. There are few of them left, but those that remain still mark the day when their ancestors split from the Light Elves and found their own home.

Meanwhile, on Muspelheim, they celebrate the coming of Ragnarök, end of the gods when Asgard shall burn. They wait patiently for this day of destiny to arrive, for fire and death is a part of the great cycle of existence, just as much as light and birth is.

Jolnir is tall and round with a bushy, white beard, just as the mortals on Midgard depict him, and he wears a red coat just to please them, but he is no mere man. He has the chilly blood of Ice Elves in him as well Frost Giant. His skin is blue and his eyes are grey like the colour of thick ice. That busy beard of his is jagged and sharp like icicles. He is kind, but he is not jolly.

And as for magic, he has enough magic in him to deliver the toys he makes at impossible speeds, but he requires the Tesseract to allow him to move between the nine worlds in a blink of an eye.

He has a daughter, Sigyn, the Loyal One. And he has a son-in-law, Loki, the Mischievous One. They help Jolnir with his never ending mission to make every child of the Nine Realms feel valued and remembered at least once a year. Sometimes things go wrong. This is especially true where Loki is concerned.

Here are some of their stories, told in no particular order.

Let's start with Jolnir.

**Chapter One: How Jolnir Came By The Tesseract**

A long, long, time ago Asgard was at war with Jotuneheim, and not for the first time.

Jolnir, who was half Frost Giant, of course knew about the war. How could he not? He was always travelling across the Nine Realms and like Heimdall saw everything that went on. But for the sake of the children he stayed away from the war, refusing to make it his business, even though it hurt him to do so.

Back in those days, Jolnir would travel through space in his sleigh pulled by a team of reindeer, just as he does now, but the journeys he had to make was so much more time consuming, dangerous and a greater drain on his powers. He knew that he had to find a better way, but like Odin he was wise and knew that he only had to wait for the right opportunity.

Odin took three things from the Frost Giants: their power, their means of teleporting across the Nine Realms, and their newly born prince, who had been abandoned and left to die, so was hardly valuable to them. They were the Casket of Ancient Winters, the Tesseract, and Loki, who had at that point not been named, but would be later by Frigga.

The Casket and the Tesseract went straight into the Vault, the baby into the arms of Frigga, who was not too pleased with her husband, but too kind not to care for the small infant.

The baby was weak and the baby would not feed.

The night of the Winter Solstice arrived a few days later, and just as he always did, Jolnir delivered a gift to every child on Asgard, including the baby Loki.

Odin was waiting in the nursery for him.

Never before had anyone been able to interrupt Jolnir's spell of speed and intercept him during his work, but, then again, Odin had never desired to do so up until now.

'The baby is dying,' the Allfather said, in his usual blunt tone of voice. 'You must help him.'

Jolnir left the light blue blanket, made of finest Alfheim silk, folded at the end of the crib.

'Must I?' his voice was low, but light, and as delicate as the patterns of frost over the window panes, and at odds with his bulky figure.

'Every healing spell my Healers try only cause to him to cry loudly,' said Odin, sounding frustrated, maybe even a little desperate. 'And the queen, who is a skilled sorceress, does not know what to do.'

'And nor do you, it seems, Odin One-Eye.'

'I knew to make an appeal to you. You are from a line of Jotuns. You share the same blood. Healing magic received from you will not be rejected by his flesh.'

Jolnir looked to the sleeping baby, looking so tiny and pale, almost lost beneath the blankets. He lightly ran a chunky finger over the delicate carvings at the end of the crib, leaving a light trail of frost behind. 'And what will my payment be?'

For a moment Odin was so shocked that he was lost for words and then he regained some of his regal haughtiness.

'The Father of Gifts demanding payment? And I thought your tender heart would be more than willing to assist a helpless babe, especially the prince of your mother's people.'

Jolnir shrugged.

'More of a charitable donation, then. A sponsorship to allow me to continue my good work.'

'Gold? A fleet of flying ships? You shall have the swiftest that we have to offer.'

Jolnir's hand dropped to his side as he stared hard into Odin's golden eye.

'The Tesseract, Allfather. I need the Tesseract. Promise it to me and I shall heal your son, for he is yours, I can see how much he is yours, even though you stole him away from his home.'

Odin scoffed. 'You would bargain with a child's life? That is cold. Your reputation for compassion is a false one.'

Odin's one eye locked with Jolnir's grey ones. Jolnir looked away first.

Gently, he picked Loki up out of the crib and held him close. The infant whimpered, but otherwise did not react. He was very light and lay limply in Jolnir's arms.

'I had hoped, Allfather, that you would see the value of my work, it's triumphs as well as its failures,' said Jolnir, wrapping Loki up in the blanket of blue silk. 'I am not all powerful and I cannot save every child who suffers. And yet there are times when I do choose to intervene, although it may be folly in the grand scheme of life to do so. The Tesseract would be of great use to me.'

He raised Loki up and breathed on his face, it was like a breeze moving over a frozen lake.

Loki stirred in his arms. He made a soft snuffling sound that turned into a whimper, that turned into a wail as loud as that of any healthy Asgardian child.

'He is hungry,' Jolnir said simply, handing him over to Odin. 'Feed him.'

'And you must take your payment,' said the voice of Frigga.

The queen was standing in the doorway, Tesseract in her hands, just as Jolnir knew she would be. The blue glow of the cube highlighted the relief and gratitude on her face.

Odin's face was unreadable as Frigga swept around him to hand over the Tesseract to Jolnir.

Frigga turned to face Odin, saying, 'We have treasures aplenty. And more than enough weapons. The Tesseract was taken as a spoil of war, but I say we should let it remain in the safekeeping of one who is half Jotun. And then one day when this little one is grown and ready to sit on the throne of Jotunheim he can have his treasures back.'

Jolnir said nothing. Little Loki was going to be a terror, he could sense it.

He activated the Tesseract and teleported away, but only to the next room to deliver his gift to young Thor. He left with the image of Odin and Frigga fussing over their screaming adopted son.


	2. Sigyn

**Introduction**

Sigyn is the daughter of Jolnir, she is his only child. She shares her father's compassion for the children of the Nine Realms, but lacks his solemness and rigidity. She will chatter, laugh, sing, and play, while he prefers the silence. Sometimes Sigyn does not know how to remain silent, even when it would be better for her to do so.

Sigyn is also the wife of Loki, adopted son of Odin. Theirs was an arranged marriage: engaged at eighteen and wedded at twenty-one with all of the pomp and ceremony that Asgard could bestow upon them. Their parents were very pleased for them. Their wedding night was a disaster.

However, Sigyn is more than just a daughter or a wife, and desires to be even more than what she already is.

Firstly, she is an artist, of sorts. She loves to create new objects out of old ones. She loves to imagine and twist and shape and transform and surprise and delight. However, so far no one besides Sigyn herself has been “delighted” by her art, but that never stops her from trying.

And secondly, she has great magic running through her blood and can change her shape at will, just like Loki. With a snap of her long fingers she can make objects appear or disappear as she pleases. She can make reindeer fly and snowstorms surge and flames grow cold. She is quite the sorceress.

But, more than anything, Sigyn would like to have more responsibility, to be challenged more by her father's work, rather than just helping to make the deliveries of gifts to all the children of the Nine Realms, which after so many long centuries was beginning to feel a little tedious at times.

She would also like to be a mother.

As of yet, she waits patiently for these desires to come to fruition.

And waits...and waits....

For she is Sigyn the Loyal One, and for her destiny means to wait and watch and care for those who are most important to her, even at the cost of putting her own dreams aside.

**Chapter Two: A One-Shot for Sigyn**

There were two young boys sharing a single bed, one aged five and the other six, both were wide awake. They listened intently for any tell-tale noise – a jingle of bells, a creaking floorboard, maybe even a “ho ho ho” - and kept their eyes open wide, staring into the gloom. There were also bursts of stifled giggling and shameless farts, but they were very young and best friends. No one truly expected them to sleep soundly on Christmas Eve.

A powerful gust of wind battered itself against the window pane, momentarily silencing the boys. They held their breath, wondering if it meant that Santa had finally arrived. For hours – which had seemed like an eternity to them – they had listened to the muffled sounds of James' parents talking in the room next door, but now even they had gone to bed. Surely it must be time for Santa by now?

Far too bored and restless and excited and warm for sleep, Steve threw back the blankets and padded over to the window, his two pairs of woollen socks softening his footsteps. James' mother took her duty of care very seriously and was adamant that Steve's asthma would not flare up on her watch or his health deteriorate in any way. So she had bundled up him as much as possible – socks, jumper, hat, and gloves she insisted he wore to bed. She had even tried to convince the cat to snuggle up with the boys on the bed cover, but the cat was in no way concerned about Steve's chest or asthma and had quickly slunk away to snooze in front of the stove.

Steve pressed his nose to the icy window pane, fascinated by the swirl of falling snowflakes on the other side. The hat and gloves were lost somewhere in the blankets having been torn off by Steve at the earliest opportunity, when he felt confident that James' mother would no longer enter the room to tell them to be quiet. He was sure that his parents would not mind. He was sure that his father might even laugh about it, but Steve would not find out for certain until after Boxing Day.

'What are you doing?' James squeaked from the bed. 'We're not aloud to get up. Not until morning.'

Steve jutted out his chin defiantly. 'I want to see Santa!'

'You saw Santa last week at the big store. No one gets to see Santa on Christmas Eve; _he's _working!'

'I only want to say hello.'

'You'll get into trouble. Loki will come for you.'

'No, he won't.'

James' brown eyes widened. In them was expressed a mixture of awe, irritation, and worry. Eventually, irritation prevailed as the dominate emotion.

He drew the blankets up his chin. 'Well, _I'm_ not going to get into trouble. Goooodnight!' and threw himself down dramatically on the pillow, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Steve resumed his watch, pressing his forehead against the glass. It was too dark to see anything, apart from the snowflakes which stuck themselves to the glass.

He waited and waited and jumped when he found that one of the blankets was being hung over his shoulders.

'I don't want you catching cold,' James said, stiffly, wrapped up in his own blanket. 'I don't want to get into trouble for letting you get cold.'

'Thank you,' said Steve, giving his friend a quick hug. 'Santa will be here soon.'

'Are you sure?'

'Of course! We just have to stay awake.'

They sat side by the side on the hard floor, starting at every little creak or moan the house made as it endured the snowstorm.

'Why do you want to see Santa so badly?' James asked quietly.

Steve chewed thoughtfully on the cuff of his jumper, deciding if he should tell James about the rumour he had heard. It had already suffered two holes because of this treatment.

'Some of the big kids said that Santa is not real,' he said, words spilling out in a rush.

James was disgusted. 'Yes, he is! We get a present from him every year.'

'That's what I said!'

'This is going to work, Steve.'

'I know it is. Because I don't know what I'll do if it doesn't.'

Time wore on and in spite of their determination eventually the boys fell asleep where they sat, slumped against one another.

* * *

A low thud and the creak of a floorboard caused Steve to stir sleepily inside of his blanket cocoon. He rubbed his eyes and blinked blearily, and then he inhaled sharply when he saw the shadowy figure moving in front of the small fireplace, sack in hand.

'Santa?'

The figure turned around, midnight blue coat swishing around her ankles, dropping the sack to the floor, and Steve saw that it was not Santa, but a woman. A woman unlike any other woman he had seen before.

She had light blue skin and light blue hair that was coarse and stiff like wolf's fur, sticking up around her head at odd and amazing angles. It was decorated with a crown made of holly leaves and bright red berries and wonderful orange and red flowers. Her smile was broad and warm, and her ice grey eyes were crinkled up at the edges in good humour.

Steve shook James roughly. The older boy's eyes quickly turned from bleary to wide and alert as he placed a defensive arm in front of his friend.

'No, I am not Santa,' Sigyn said in a clear, gentle voice. 'I am Sigyn, daughter of Santa, and I come bearing gifts. A set of crayons for you and a baseball for James. You have both been good boys.'

'Thanks! But, where is Santa?'

Sigyn's smile disappeared just for the briefest of moments before reappearing again.

'I'm his daughter. I assist him. And one day soon when he retires I will take over his duties completely.'

'Oh, okay. Can you do magic?'

'Of course, just as much as Father can. Would you care to see?'

'Yeah!'

'_Ahem!_'

It was a loud, annoyed, impatient sort of cough that caught their attention and drew their eyes to the darkest corner of the room. There was the snap of fingers and the candle, which not so long ago had stood on the bedside table but was now on the floor, lit itself, the flame almost reaching up to the ceiling before receding again.

Loki was leaning against the wall there, arms loosely folded, and wearing a smug yet bored expression on his face. The candle, he told himself, had been a nice touch. He liked to make a good entrance.

James squeaked in horror and threw his blanket over Steve's head, hissing, 'I warned you!'

Steve immediately yanked the blanket away.

'Husband,' Sigyn greeted pleasantly, meekly holding her hands together. 'What brings you here? These boys are not on the Naughty List and I have yet to finish my deliveries.'

Steve felt a shiver flit all over his body as the Keeper of the Naughty List glanced directly at him with cold, green eyes.

Loki glided forward, his expression now amused and hungry.

'Wife, your dear father and I were concerned at how long it was taking you to drop off two simple gifts for these boys, who only just narrowly made it onto the Nice List, after all the fights they've been involved in.'

'We had good reasons!' Steve pipped up. 'Those bullies -'

James put his hand over Steve's mouth. Sigyn looked at them both, finger pressed to her lips.

'Sigyn, I do believe you've been showing off again.'

'No, not showing off. Just introducing myself. Making myself known, just as you and Father are known.'

Loki looked away, and chuckled to himself.

'Sigyn the Loyal,' he murmured, softly. 'Loyal to your father and loyal to your perfect husband, but also loyal to your own ambitions.'

Sigyn pouted, hand on hip.

'Do you hate me for it, Loki?'

'Passionately,' he whispered, holding her gaze with an intense stare.

Sigyn's face flushed a dark blue. She gulped loudly and clapped her hands together loudly as though to wake herself up.

'Boys, sorry, but I – I have to go. Lots to do before dawn, so many more presents to deliver.'

'But what about the magic?' Steve cried, as Sigyn propelled both him towards the bed, hands on his shoulders.

James was staring, fixated by Loki, mouth hanging open.

Loki jerked his head towards the bed. James sprang to life and dashed to the bed, jumping in.

As Sigyn began trying to tuck him in, Steve wriggled his arm free and tapped her shoulder urgently.

'Yes?' she asked in a low voice, moving her head close to his, so that he could whisper in her pointy ear.

'Is Loki going to put you on the Naughty List?' the boy asked in a hoarse, but not-so quiet voice. He looked anxiously at Loki.

'Not today,' Loki said, but he looked pointedly at Sigyn. 'Make haste, wife, every second counts.'

Sigyn finished tucking the blankets around James and then went to stand by Loki's side.

'Goodnight, boys,' she said, sweetly, weaving a sleeping spell with hands. 'Pleasant dreams.'

They were soon asleep and once they were, Loki drew Sigyn close to his body and they disappeared in a flash of green light.

* * *

In the deep of Alfheim's night, Sigyn and Loki lay together in their icy bed, and afterwards Loki slept, but Sigyn did not.

She lay awake thinking and wondering when her time to lead would finally arrive, if it would arrive at all. She had fought so hard just to be allowed to help Jolnir make his deliveries and had fought even harder to be declared Jolnir's heir instead of one of her male cousins, but still it was not quite enough. If she could not have children of her own then all she wanted was to be the Mother of Gifts, to direct her love and compassion fully on the children of the Nine Realms.

But, still, she must wait and try to be content as an assistant. She must wait and hope to be a mother. So much waiting, so much patience required of her, and with so much love burning inside of her.

Sigyn found that if she strained her ears and quietened her breathing that she could detect the rattle of Jolnir's snores, emitting from his room down the corridor. She did not have to strain her ears too much. It had been a long day. For them, their work was never ending, always moving in a constant, exhausting cycle of preparing gifts and then delivering those gifts, over and over and over again, never pausing and never ending.

It was the Fire Realm next, Land of Surtur. Oh, dear. It was their least favourites of all the realms to visit. Ice Elves and Frost Giants did not like fire, especially worlds made of fire. And those worlds and its demons did not like them, except when their children were been given free gifts of axes and burning daggers with blades of flame.

Sigyn rolled onto her side to gaze at Loki's bare back and using the tip of her finger traced the lines of his exposed shoulder to the curve of his neck.

Loki understood her, this she knew. He understood her frustrations and heartache, feeling them strongly himself, but cherished her all the same.

She had her father and she had her husband. They loved her and she love them. Somehow, reflecting on that much love, especially Loki's love, made Sigyn feel playful and a little aggressive. She wanted to squeeze Loki forever, and to to bite that smooth, round shoulder, just to make Loki angry at first and then to make Loki tender.

So she did.


End file.
